While on duty, I noticed a small girl under a tree, weeping: when her eyes met mine, she abruptly stopped crying and behaved oddly.
This morning’s patrol began as any other. My faithful companion Rex — an aging but still sharp German Shepherd — and I moved slowly through the calm city streets. The sun was bright, and just a handful of passersby hurried about their errands. Everything appeared normal, and I was already convinced the shift would remain uneventful.
Yet suddenly, something caught my attention that didn’t belong to this quiet setting.
Beneath a wide tree spreading its shade stood a little girl — no more than five or six. Her shoulders shook, tears streamed down her face, and her sobs echoed in the stillness. Nobody else was nearby.
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